their backpack and an unconscious friend who’s been tortured half to death.’
They both glanced behind as Edith’s body rumbled.
‘That’ll be water coming back out the way it went in,’ Joseph explained.
‘I’m with the resistance,’ Rosie said. ‘But frankly, the less you know, the safer you’ll be.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Joseph Blanc lived in a large brick house that belonged to his older brother. It was several kilometres from the railway and surrounded by farmland.
The house had the rare luxury of a coal-fired water heater and after a hot bath Rosie used the water to wash out her underclothes. But she kept her pistol within reach, because she’d been taught never to trust anyone and people who showed kindness were among the most likely to betray you.
Being alone with Edith had been frightening, and Rosie was relieved seeing her in a proper bed in an upstairs bedroom. Joseph repeated the hydration and once in a while they wiped Edith down with cool water, but the unconscious body gave no clues about the battle being fought by her immune system.
*
As Rosie napped, Joseph cooked chicken and potatoes. It was the best thing Rosie had eaten since landing in France and they shared a bottle of wine over the meal. When Dr Blanc arrived at the house shortly before 9 p.m. she found the two of them sitting on a rug playing draughts.
Although the wine made her a touch drunk, Rosie soon found herself in serious conversation with the buxom doctor.
‘I have a resistance contact in Paris,’ Rosie explained, as she sat across from the doctor, who was eating chicken leftovers with bread and cheese. ‘We didn’t get a chance to prepare identity documents for Edith before the Germans stormed in, and I could only carry the absolute essentials after Eugene was shot. The blank identity documents and miniature camera were in his pack.’
‘So you want to leave Edith here and travel to Paris?’ Dr Blanc asked.
‘Tomorrow, if that’s acceptable,’ Rosie said.
‘I telephoned the station and got details of tomorrow’s trains,’ Joseph added.
Dr Blanc nodded. ‘I can see the sense in that. There’s nothing you can do to help Edith by being here.’
‘I expect I’ll be gone for two or three days,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m not short of money and I’d be happy to leave enough to pay for any treatment.’
‘There’s nothing to pay,’ Dr Blanc said. Then she leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Are your resistance colleagues well connected?’
‘Please don’t take offence, doctor,’ Rosie said warily, ‘but the less I say the safer it is for everyone.’
Dr Blanc accepted this, but pressed gently. ‘I have two reasons for asking. Firstly, there’s a drug known as penicillin. It’s impossible to get supplies around here, but it might be available on the black market in Paris.’
Edith had seen stories about penicillin in newsreels and newspapers. ‘Isn’t that the miracle drug?’ she asked.
‘Everyone’s heard of it, nobody can get it,’ Dr Blanc explained. ‘The Germans produce it in small quantities, but it’s only made available in their military hospitals. Edith is extremely sick and a vial of penicillin would tilt the balance of probabilities in her favour. The second reason I ask is this.’
The doctor reached into her medical bag and produced a crumpled grey notebook. Rosie caught Joseph’s expression, and he apparently had no more idea what it was than she did.
‘Two Germans came to my doorstep after Easter,’ Dr Blanc began, as Edith reached across and took the notebook. ‘It was all rather gothic. We drove out several kilometres into woodland. Pitch dark, rain lashing the car. They took me down into a bunker – a vast underground warehouse. There were a great deal of military supplies in storage, everything from bombs to boxes of grenades.’
‘You’re talking about the old army storage bunker,’ Joseph said, interrupting his mother. ‘You never told me you’d seen a patient out there.’
Dr Blanc gave her son a look of surprise. ‘How do you know about it?’
‘When Frédéric and I were boys we used to explore in the woods. It was built as an ammunition store during the Great War. There would always be a soldier guarding the perimeter and boys would sneak up and throw acorns or chestnuts at him.’
‘Then you know more about it than I do,’ Dr Blanc said. Then with a half-smile, ‘And apparently my sons were not as well behaved as they led me to believe at the time.’
‘I haven’t thought about that old place in years,’ Joseph said. ‘The soldiers used to get cross and shoot their